


Sneak

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cousin Incest, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 00:51:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11219802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Finrod tries to be good, but Maedhros and Fingon have keys.





	Sneak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ephers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephers/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for ephers’ “27. mae/fingon/fingolfin (or finrod or all four) - and i proposed amusement park” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/161379570810/au-prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Silmarillion or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

As soon as there’s a clear view of the valley, Finrod knows there’s something wrong, even if Maedhros and Fingon seem perfectly fine. Maedhros takes them straight ahead, like he said he would, right into the enormous parking lot. Finrod starts rolling his window down, at least glad he’s alone in the backseat and won’t have to explain himself. He’s sure he’s the one mistaken. He leans out the window when he gets a chance, squinting at the endless grounds before them, cordoned off behind a white wall, where the amusement park is utterly _empty._

He pulls his head back into the car, finger-combing his wind-blown blond hair down again, and says loud enough for the front seat: “It’s closed.”

“Good thing the lights are still on,” Maedhros chirps easily. He pulls right into a parking space at the front—the lot’s deserted. Finrod’s never seen it so desolate, but then, he’s never come here in the middle of the night. Even when he worked a summer job at one of the stalls when he was younger, he only had morning shifts. But he probably should’ve guessed as much, and this is what he gets for hanging out with his mischievous cousins. 

Fingon’s usually better than this. But as soon as the engine’s off, he climbs out of the car without any hesitation. Maedhros pulls out the keys and follows, even coming around to open Finrod’s door with a mock-chivalrous bow. Finrod follows, knowing it’s too late now.

He still accuses, “You knew,” while he straightens up. Maedhros grins winningly.

Walking around to their side, Fingon at least has the decency to shrug. “You know how Maedhros gets when he has an idea.” 

As soon as he’s close enough, Maedhros elbows Fingon lightly in the side and counters, “Don’t blame it all on me—you didn’t have to come.”

But he did, and Finrod knows it, because whenever they escape their fathers, Maedhros and Fingon are glued at the hip. And Finrod’s always _longed_ to be a part of that, so he doesn’t immediately protest. He was too excited when they first invited him out a few hours past dark. He’s still excited. He just mutters as the three of them stroll towards a door at the side, “I don’t think we should be doing this...”

“We’re not going to cause any damage,” Maedhros promises, throwing a wink over his shoulder. “Fingon always makes sure of that.”

“Grandfather would understand,” Fingon adds, though he doesn’t look entirely sure of that. Finwë might forgive _Maedhros_ , but Finrod’s not so sure about himself. He figures that just because family owns it doesn’t mean they can break all the rules. Even if he’s only ever done one summer here, and Maedhros and Fingon help out all the time. 

He says for his final protest, “Our fathers would be furious.”

“Mine’s always furious,” Maedhros laughs, with a knowing grin at Fingon. Then they’re right in front of the side door, and Maedhros is fishing a set of keys out of his jacket that Finrod _knows_ he’s not supposed to have. Maedhros finishes, “You worry too much,” and thrusts a key into the lock.

It opens smoothly for them, Fingon slipping in first, never one to be afraid of the dark. Maedhros ushers Finrod through next, and he considers staying behind, but then he gets a look at Fingon’s retreating back, his broad shoulders and the long, black braid run through with a golden ribbon Maedhros probably twisted in this morning. Maedhros’ copper locks are free, flowing in silken waves down his taut frame, his face every bit as handsome as Fingon’s. They’re both _painfully_ handsome. And Finrod’s always trusted too easily.

He follows Fingon in, Maedhros right behind him. As soon as the door’s shut, they’re thrown into a pitch-black veil. But a second later, Fingon’s face is lit up in the dull glow of his phone. He gives Finrod a reassuring smile, then moves on down the corridor, holding the screen out like a flashlight. Finrod feels Maedhros’ hands pressing suddenly against his back, nudging him forward, and he obeys. 

The corridor they pass down is uninteresting, and Finrod quickly realizes they’re in one of the washrooms. They’re through the metal door and out into the open air again in only a few steps. It’s brighter than it was outside, a few glowing lights from the attractions mingling with the stars and moon. The air is slightly chilly, though Maedhros and Fingon warned him to dress warm, and he’s got his thickest sweater on. He takes a minute just to admire the scene, even though he was protesting it just outside—it _does_ look wondrous when it’s empty. He can actually _see_ everything: straight across the manicured lawn, over the rolling hills, to food stalls and game booths and one towering ride after the other. It’s blessedly quiet and still smells of popcorn. It’s almost eerie, but his company takes the wariness out of it.

Maedhros and Fingon look right at home. Fingon breathes in a lungful of crisp air before sighing, “Well, gentleman, what shall we do first?”

“I wanted to see the horse show,” Finrod offers, “but I guess that’s not happening now.” Maedhros chuckles.

Then Maedhros points over the nearest cotton candy stall, up at one of the lit attractions. He announces, “I want to make love at the top of the ferris wheel.” Fingon laughs like this is a great idea, while Finrod’s eyes grow wide.

He’s never been a particularly scared person, but he can’t help pointing out: “That sounds dangerous, whether you mean to climb it or try to operate it yourself.”

Maedhros just scoffs, “And to think people consider you the fun one.”

“The _nice_ one,” Finrod corrects. “You’re the reckless one.”

“And I’m the sensible one,” Fingon adds, “so I’ll suggest we compromise; pick a ride on the ground. ...If Finrod approves.”

Maedhros rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, and Finrod wonders with a blush just how serious they are. He half expects them to run off and start. 

But Maedhros comes to him first, reaching out to take his right hand, well Fingon takes the left. Maedhros promises, “C’mon, I’ll ‘win’ you a big stuffed animal to make you feel better—and before you worry about it, I’ll add the money to the till for it.” 

Finrod wrinkles his nose. But Maedhros’ _fun_ is infectious, and Fingon’s hand around his assures him. He lets them both tug him deeper, still pleased to spend the night between them.


End file.
